


The Greatest Gift

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Birthdays, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Memories, Traditions, Waffles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “I always knew you lurked behind doors,” Dick teased. “Just couldn’t prove it until now.”“I do not lurk, Master Dick. I was simply taking in the lay of the land before entering.”“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” Dick grinned and unceremoniously hauled him into a hug. “Happy birthday, Alfred.”





	The Greatest Gift

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to XxLuLuElixX for looking up all the Batfam birthdays and sharing them with me! Alfred's birthday is supposedly April 8, so happy birthday to our favorite butler!

Alfred awoke as he always did at precisely five thirty in the morning, the quiet strains of a piano concerto echoing through the room from his alarm clock. He never needed much to wake up, even after a long and grueling night caring for his charges. Years of routine have him up by rote, even when he would much rather lay abed for an extra hour or two of sleep.  

Sometimes, rarely, he indulged, safe in the knowledge no one would learn of it. However, today was not one of those days. Every year on this day, the young men he considered his grandsons would congregate in the kitchen and put aside whatever their current differences were for his birthday.  

The tradition started years ago with Master Dick, a tiny little lad who shyly offered him a cupcake from a box mix he’d smuggled into the house. When he wasn’t being pulled in a dozen different directions at once, Dick was quite capable of focusing on the task at hand and could follow a recipe and instructions when it was laid out before him. Each year after that, they’d have a quiet breakfast together, one that the boy, and then later young man, would make. 

Master Jason was introduced into their little gathering his first year at the Manor. Alfred thought he’d have to step in when he entered the kitchen that morning to find Dick and Jason in a stare off over the granite countertop. Apparently, Dick had arrived a little late, what with his drive from New York and all, and Jason was already hard at work making waffles. Before Alfred could say anything, the boys turned to him and wished him a happy birthday. Dick started on a compote for the waffles and even showed Jason how to make whipped cream. 

Nothing was ever said in his presence about it, but things were much more cordial the following year, without sullen glares being cast at the other.

The birthday after Jason’s death was a difficult one, but he and Dick persevered, trying to make waffles the way Jason did. Neither of them ever quite got it right.

Master Tim always swore he accidentally stumbled into the kitchen the first time Alfred’s birthday came around during his tenure at the Manor. Alfred knew better, but let him have his little tall tale. It was pleasant to have another young man join him and Dick. They regaled Tim with their favorite stories about Jason. 

Alfred firmly believed that each birthday celebrated with his grandsons was special, but he would be hard pressed to deny that the birthday after Jason’s emergence back into their lives was his favorite. Master Bruce, Dick, and Tim were traveling abroad, leaving him to his devices. When he went to make his own breakfast that morning, Jason was there, hunched over the stove like he was expecting a rebuke for his very presence.

_“If you don’t want me here, just say so.”_

_“I always want you here, my boy. Always.”_

The following year added Master Damian to the mix. Both he and Tim had a hard time honoring the typical ceasefire, what with their myriad of issues, but Alfred could tell Dick was just as defensive about Jason, even if he didn’t admit it until afterwards. Tim’s backhanded comments about poison and Damian obviously fingering his knife ceased when Alfred informed them both that they were perfectly welcome to find breakfast elsewhere if they didn’t wish to eat what was in front of them. It was the only time he’d ever had to step in directly and both boys backed down, especially after Dick did nothing to support them. Jason didn’t help matters in the slightest as he snickered anytime one of his brothers so much as looked at him.

The year after that found Tim barely back into the fold following Bruce’s adventures in the time stream. He was worn out and thin beyond belief. Exhausted as well, which was evident after he ate everything in front of him with nary a comment, even the second and third helpings Jason piled on without being asked. 

People outside the family always thought of Dick as the mother hen type but the title truly belonged to Jason when he chose to act on it. 

Alfred mused on what this year will bring as he got dressed. Things had been relatively quiet of late, but that didn’t mean anything, not in this house where a single spark could turn into a roaring fire in less than a moment.

As he approached the kitchen, the quiet murmur of voices met his ears. Before entering, Alfred paused and peered through the slightly open door. He smiled fondly as he took in the familiar sight of Jason at the stove. He always took point on their meal preparations, but rather than Dick assisting him this year, there was Damian at the massive island countertop, carefully breaking eggs into a bowl. 

A light tap on his shoulder had Alfred turn to meet Dick’s amused gaze. 

“I always knew you lurked behind doors,” he teased. “Just couldn’t prove it until now.”

“I do not _lurk_ , Master Dick. I was simply taking in the lay of the land before entering.” 

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you want to call it.” Dick grinned and unceremoniously hauled him into a hug. “Happy birthday, Alfred.”

“Thank you, my boy,” he replied, patting Dick firmly on the back. It was hard to believe such a tiny boy could have grown into this wonderful young man. 

Dick held him close for a moment longer and let go. “Let’s go see what trouble is waiting for us.”

The scent of melted butter and a hint of burned sugar permeated the air. Jason looked up from the mixing bowl where he was pouring the butter into his batter. He smiled crookedly. “Happy birthday, Alfie. I haven’t burned down your kitchen yet.”

Damian huffed and glared crossly at his older brother. “As if I would let you.”

“Oh, so that wasn’t you who almost burned the sugar earlier when I showed you how to make caramel?” Jason didn’t give the younger boy a chance to reply and continued speaking. “Dickie, there’s fruit that needs chopping. Timbo is still too out of it to be trusted with a sharp object.”

“I am not,” Tim retorted. Alfred turned to see him tucked away in the dining nook with a steaming cup of what appeared to be coffee and a cutting board full of strawberries. “I’m wide awake.”

Dick laughed as he took a seat across from his brother and picked up the knife. “Let me guess, you stayed up all night?”

Tim gave him a look that reminded them all just how young he still was. He could be trusted in the kitchen but only if all his electronics were removed from the vicinity. It appeared Jason may have decided not to cross that bridge as Tim was still in possession of his phone. “Yeah. It was easier.”

“And it’s the reason why I didn’t make coffee,” Jason added, setting down his pan. “He’s got the sludge.”

Alfred chuckled to himself as he went to inspect the teapot. His often wayward charge had a tendency to blend different teas together to explore flavor profiles but also to find ones with a strong burst caffeine as he despised coffee. It was still weaker than a cup of regular coffee, which was fine as Tim certainly didn’t need it. “And what does the sludge consist of this year, Master Jason?”

Damian snorted as he carefully poured some batter into the hot waffle iron. “That is not tea,” he said with a sniff. 

“Yeah it is.” 

The dark contents of the pot begged to differ.

“It’s actually good,” Tim offered as he pointedly took a sip. “Has a hint of chocolate, I think.”

“Your palette is ruined from years of coffee abuse,” Jason chided. “It’s a black dragon tea blended with a pu-erh that’s got a chocolaty flavor. It’s awesome.”

Alfred decided he was brave enough to try it. Jason’s blends rarely disappointed. 

As he sat off to the side with his tea, he watched his boys make breakfast with minimal fuss, even if they all made rather pointed jabs at each other, Damian in particular as he struggled to navigate the unspoken terms of the truce for this long held tradition. He was persistent though and never backed down from a challenge. It helped that he also had an appreciation for traditions, even if he didn’t fully understand them.

The waffles were superb. Alfred praised them as he always did, as well as the slightly too dark caramel sauce Damian made. Tim and Dick’s contributions to the meal often involved prep and clean up, which they did wordlessly when their meal was over. Jason took the time to brew another pot of tea, this time a more traditional English breakfast tea with cream and sugar for them all. 

“This is a proper tea,” Damian commented as he took charge of the tea service and prepared Alfred’s cup to his liking. “Seriously, that stuff earlier was a disgrace.” 

Tim held his last cup of the previous blend close to his chest. “You would know all about disgrace, wouldn’t you?” 

“Hey, none of that,” Dick chided, waiting his turn for the next cup. “It’s time for presents.” 

A brown paper wrapped package was dropped unceremoniously in front of Alfred. He could feel Jason standing at his shoulder watching his brothers. It was easy to imagine the provocative look on his face as he wordlessly challenged them all. In other words, typical behavior from the boy. 

Other gifts appeared from various places and were set next to and on top of Jason’s gift. Dick always made an effort to wrap his gifts in bright, cheerful colors while Tim never seemed to go beyond a gift bag and a wad of tissue paper. Damian’s present looked like a piece of art, with the colors of the paper and ribbon speaking volumes about the time it took to make it look this way. 

Alfred sipped his tea, then set it aside to pick up Dick’s package. “I wonder what this could be?” he said with a slight quirk to his lips. He wasn’t omniscient like the boys often joked, but it never hurt to play up the image. 

The gifts were thoughtful and managed to represent the relationship he had with each of his grandsons. But as their little party wound down and Alfred watched the boys prepare to leave, he couldn’t help but feel that this time with each of them was the greatest gift of all.


End file.
